A Two-Way Thing
by TankOfO2
Summary: "He's transfixed in the middle of his own bed by the lynx currently staring him down, limbs spread wider than nessessary to make the jump and take him down. This is her spot. Exactly where she wants to be." Rating: strong T; mild-M!


AN: Nothing here is mine. No profit being made.

Rating: Strong T - Mild M

(I've read a lot of Mad Max fics lately, having barely seen the movie. The way Max screams in my head, even when he's quiet in the stories - it brought some words to me. Be gentle, please. I'm dealing only with the only ones I've got in English. It's not much.)

AN vol 2: This story wouldn't be up without Polly Lynn's kind revision and editing. u!

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Oh. It's electrifying.

She climbs up the length of him on all fours, and there's a feral tilt to one corner of her mouth. He wants to back up, up against the headboard for comfort, for whatever she has planned, but he doesn't dare to move. He's transfixed in the middle of his own bed by the lynx currently staring him down, limbs spread wider than nessessary to make the jump and take him down. This is her spot. Exactly where she wants to be.

He knew it would play out like this. That he'd be powerless in his own thirst. On his knees, figuratively sometimes, other times literally, senses arrested by the mere sight of her - he's excited, to say the least.

Pressed nose to nose, Castle can more hear than see the strap of her bra sliding down her shoulder. Silk on silk, a _whisper_ next to his ear. He turns to look, spontaneously, but his jaw gets caught by three of her fingers. A quick, firm capture, keeping his eyes solely on hers but it's sloppy the way her thumb catches over his lower lip, grabs it and _twists_.

It sends a twinge straight into his gut. It doesn't hurt, it isn't comfortable either, but it's promising, the way she manhandles him. He wants to kiss her. Wants to bite her, affected by the mood she's set, but makes himself wait. Takes pride in the knowing she'd be pleased with him right now, with the effort, and with herself, too, what she already does to him. Maybe. Come to think of it, it'd be too little effort for a woman like her. He wants to give her more. She deserves _more._

Staring, he sweeps his eyes over his almost-naked partner and takes in her provocative position, lets the image to feed the fire already licking at him. He leans back, on the hand he's streched behind him for support when she comes for him, chasing, putting her whole body into it, and sends her tongue out for a slow, most wicked dance in his mouth, until he's dizzy with it and he has to gasp.

His fingers twitch to life against his thighs. They try and hook around her wrists - he wants her closer, in his lap - when she bites the nearest patch on his cheek.

A no, then, and he cannot even start to apologize in some form or the other, when he finds his world tilt and, her hand in his hair, he's on his back. Kate grins, clearly satisfied with her moves and she whispers.

"Something you want?"

Her eyes are tinted dark. A veil over them he wants to have a name for, because not knowing is agony. They haven't been sleeping together long, roughly a month now into their first summer together, and there's an anxious spot somewhere in all the shimmery lust. It's enough to still him again.

He can be good. Wants to be good for her.

She sits back on her haunches and takes a good, long look at him. Teeth gritting over teeth sideways when her jaw locks. By the way she looks at him he suspects he's said it out loud.

"Castle." She calls, grabs his hand and weaves their fingers together. Sliding them over her scar between her breasts, she closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again the veil lifts with her lashes, and she looks _sad_ underneath her smile.

"But you are." She bends a little and turns his hand, presses it against her cheek and holds it there for a moment. "You _are_ good to me." Kisses the flesh in his palm. The inside of his wrist as his fingers open and splay over her temple, under the sudden swell of affection in his chest, gratitude. She sometimes surprises him like that. Not with her mysteries but the simplicity she manifests and he's powerless in the light of it. She's good at quieting the flurry inside of him.

Lowering herself on his chest again, she streches her legs out along the length of his and braces her hands next to his shoulders. She's tender, so tender now but determined all the same. He makes himself concentrate.

"You've already been so good to me." She shares a wicked smile with him, not by mistake, calling up vivid memories in his mind's eye. He feels responsing surge in his loins at that, but he lifts his hips more in agreement than an actual seduction. "Now let me be good to you, too."

He blinks; she looks anew. She looks at him with all the patience there is in the world. With quiet inquiry. He's never felt more cherished by her - by anyone and he has a sudden, weird urge to tug his hands over his chest under her scrunity - it feels like she's stripping him _again_ when he's only in his boxers already.

She catches his wrists and tuts at him, nips gently at his eyebrow. Words choke him and he feels oddly small in the face of all her grace and graciousness, inside and out.

"Now. I'm not gonna repeat myself." She's gone feral again. Just that easily. "What do you need? What do _you_ like?" A open mouthed kiss to his lips and a clash of tongues and sometime after, when she's finished with his mouth, when she's licking around his adam's apple, he finds his hands pinned over his head. He squeezes the corner of the pillow tighter in his fist as she rocks on top of him. His mind blanks.

"Or don't tell me." She keeps going, breathing her feistyness over his skin wherever her mouth and teeth land in the heady mix with her fingers, the ends of her hair tickling. "In fact, let me do _all_ the work." A nip to his nipple. "I'll figure it out all by myself."

He's sure her voice will have a hand in his undoing. Of course, her breasts, pressing into his collarbones, too, and yes, he wants to have a bite at _those._ Sometime in near future preferably, and his mouth goes dry. He gapes at them.

She stops. _"Please?"_

It's not a game. _Not_ a game. She, a hunter, who has opened up so much of herself, who's left him heartbroken and kept herself away, she's here now. On this spot and means to learn him.

 _Later_ \- he's settled - promises himself _later,_ and lets loose some leash he hadn't known he was holding. He can give her this, he can give her more: he will do nothing.

Oh. It's electrifying.

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AN vol 3: There is no such thing as a bad review. I dare you.


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